A Peculiar Case of Love and Desire
by Sleek Ink
Summary: While investigating a series of mysterious murders, Hermione crosses paths with one deadly desirable blonde witch. Fleur is a complication Hermione needs to decipher to solve the case and unlock her heart. Fleurmione fic!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This first chapter is dedicated to the fanfic authors who 'turned' me to Fleurmione. Whistle the Silver, Here's To, Jue Jue and Metal-Panda-Alex. Also a shy 'Hi' to those who ship this. Not many people 'get' it, but because you do, here's for you.**

**Reviews are love! Enjoy!**

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CHAPTER ONE

Hermione fidgeted in her suede blazer. She was wearing her trusty legging-jeans and knee-high laced boots, all magically warmed yet it did nothing to quell the chill of the crime scene before her. Served cold by the absence of blood and the presence of death.

She nodded to her junior partner who took out a camera and proceeded to take shots of the yellow-taped enclosure. Like the four cases before, an adult male was found dead in a hotel room. A swanky suite with a plush carpet and thick walls that swallow whispers and screams. Hermione already saw the security footage, the man checked in alone and had no visitors.

Which did not explain why the man ended up sprawled shirtless on the king sized bed with the look of frozen exhilaration on his face. Hermione waved her arm across the body, her wand concealed in a custom harness inside her jacket sleeve. The digital watch on her wrist changed its clock display into a coded graph which only Hermione can decipher.

'Spell: Unknown

Caster: Magical Creature – species unknown.'

The brunette swiftly took out a small pen from her pocket, used its sharp point to prick the man's neck. The pin sized wound shone red and healed in the next second. Hermione clicked the pen and read the words now engraved on it's silver casing.

'Potion: None.'

'Well, that answers a lot,' Hermione muttered sarcastically as she stashed her pen away and switched her watch back to its normal clock face.

Thanks to her three-year training at The Guild, Hermione became adept at fusing rune magic with simple muggle technology to speed up investigations. After clinching the highest N.E.W.T. marks in Hogwarts on her final year, Hermione received a mysterious black enveloped letter from The Guild – a secret university for exceptional wizards and witches selected from all over the world. They only take 25 students a year so it was a great honour to be invited. With their education fully funded by an international coalition of Magical Ministries, graduates proudly serve as Guild Intelligence Agents (Hermione refused the colloquial term 'spies') who gather and utilise magical knowledge for global security (aka seizing emerging Big Bads, averting wizard wars and mass muggle attacks etc). They also investigate cases deemed unsolvable by Aurors.

Which brings her here on this peculiar case of mighty dead men. Mighty because all the victims were either extremely wealthy or politically powerful. It was Hermione's first serious case as a Guild agent, and she did not want to screw this up.

Her brows knit into a frown when she spotted a thin strand of pale hair underneath the bed. She snapped on a rubber glove on her right hand and knelt. As she bagged the evidence she saw in her periphery a pair of dark, low-heeled boots stepping into the room. The faint scent of almond and vanilla wafted to her nose.

Hermione's heart stilled.

_Could it be?_

'The name of the victim is Gregory Rosseu. Vice President of Une Banc Francais.' A soft, deep feminine voice said. Its enunciation was crystal, barely a trace of an accent that Hermione knew was there two years ago.

Hermione stood quickly, evidence bag made a dull thump on the carpet. 'Fleur?' she whispered.

The brunette couldn't believe what she was seeing. Fleur Delacour stood a few feet before her. She looked exactly as she remembered, but different at the same time. Her silver locks cascaded in perfect disarray, a few wisps strayed near plush heart-shaped lips. Her eyes slanted up ever so slightly, fringed with everlong, thick lashes. Orbs of piercing blue bore into Hermione, yet gave nothing away. She wore a velvet trench coat that hugged her tall, slender hourglass figure, the dark material contrasting with the blonde's smooth olive skin.

Hermione gulped. She almost forgot how overwhelmingly beautiful Fleur can be.

God how she _missed_ her.

Her arms were already half raised and feet ready to spring to engulf the blonde with a hug when she was frozen in place by narrowed sapphire eyes.

_Oh. Undercover. Right. _ Hermione caught herself in time.

'Detective Granger,' Fleur said with a curt nod, her eyes pointedly glancing at the muggle police officer who was busily taking photos. 'I don't believe we've met. I'm Agent Delacour from Interpol France. I'll be taking over from here.'

Not a trace of warmth in that voice. Not even a flicker of recognition of their sort-of friendship. Hermione knew it was part of the undercover act, but she had no word from the woman for two freaking years and here she was. All hard-core business in her face.

Without missing a beat, Hermione used her own brisk boss voice. 'It seems Interpol has sidestepped protocol. I'm afraid you are not allowed to take over this case without authorisation.'

A hint of a smile ghosted the blonde's lips. She slid her hand underneath the lapel of her trench coat, briefly exposing the top of her left breast. 'Here's my authorisation,' she murmured.

A small intake of breath escaped Hermione's suddenly slack lips.

_Don't be an idiot, Granger. Stop acting like a pubescent boy. _Hermione berated herself as she closed her mouth and tore her eyes away from the briefly exposed skin.

She inwardly shook herself and found her eyes staring into a blank sheet of paper held out by the blonde. Slowly, words started to swim into sentences, filling the blank space. Hermione blinked rapidly to prevent being further enchanted by the obviously charmed paper.

'That will be enough Agent Delacour. We can do a collaborative investigation, but until you clear this with my superior, you have no authorisation to take charge of this case.' Hermione said with finality. She picked up her fallen evidence bag and stuffed it quickly in her magically enhanced pants pocket. She was known at The Guild for perfecting the undetectable extendable charm, having done the advanced spell since she was 17.

The two women nodded at each other before combing the room together. Hermione started with the walls, holding up her hand to scan the scene with her magically tweaked watch. Fleur stood at the centre of the room and did a slow 360 turn, she held a smart phone and appeared to be taking panoramic shots. Hermione bit back a grin. This was almost like old times, back when Fleur was assigned as her student-mentor at the Guild. They would go inside a conjured crime scene and tried to outdo each other in finding the most clues.

'How did you ascertain his identity? There's no recovered wallet, paid the hotel in cash. Fingerprints have not yet been run through,' Hermione asked as she carefully rifled through a drawer on the bedside table.

'His face is his ID. Because of his indiscretions as a playboy businessman, he is a favourite feature in the French dailies,' Fleur said as she stowed her phone away. She saw the muggle cop inspecting items in the bathroom and approached her at the doorway.

'There's no need for that. I'll take it from here,' Fleur said dismissively.

She forgot how stand-offish Fleur can be to other people.

Jane, her muggle cop partner, paused in her inspection and flashed her eyes at Fleur. She stepped out of the bathroom and faced the blonde with an even glare. 'Now just hold on a second Blondie. I don't _care_ if you are from Interpol, but you can't boss me or Detective Granger around. This is _our_ case,' Jane huffed.

'It's okay Jane,' Hermione approached the woman and made a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder. 'You got most of the important shots. I'll handle this stuck-up witch, I mean, bitch myself. You can go ahead, I'll meet you at the office.'

Seemingly mollified, Jane scowled one last time at Fleur before packing her paraphernalia and heading out the door.

'Bitch?' a perfectly arched brow nearly reached Fleur's hairline.

'I have a character to play you know. I am London's hard-arse crime buster and they don't mess with me.' Hermione said with a shrug and a hint of a swagger in the way she tilted her head to the side.

'Mmm.. I've always thought you'd become a sexy sorcerer assassin 'Ermione, but a lovely assed muggle police detective will do.' Fleur's voice slid smoothly like silk against Hermione's ears.

Maybe it was magic. Or maybe it was the blonde's athletic grace. Hermione didn't see the blonde move. All she knew is that the distance between them was now gone and Fleur was a mere inches away. 'You grew up beautifully mon amis,' Fleur husked, her breath caressing Hermione's face.

Warmth spread across Hermione's cheeks as she felt Fleur's blazing sapphire eyes frisk her form, settling on her lips. She had seen Fleur flirt with a lot of people and always laughed at how they easily became a puddle of witless gits around the blonde.

_And here is me, a second away from losing my wits. What is Fleur playing at? She never flirted with me before. _

'Erm.. thanks.' Hermione mumbled as she hastily stepped away from the blonde. Her nearness was too confounding. She crossed her arms around her chest and steadied her breath. 'So what happened to you, Fleur? I wrote you a ton of mail for a _year_. The last news I had was from the Weasleys. They said you broke your engagement with Bill and seemed to disappear from the earth.'

Fleur sighed. The brief flicker of warmth in her eyes were gone the second Hermione distanced herself.

'Zis tale deserves to be talked over drinks, and not a dead body, non?'

Hermione grinned, seeing some of the old Fleur she knew coming back.

'Fine. Let's wrap this up. You better have answers to all my questions.'

'Well if all questions are answered cherie, where's the fun of mystery in that?'

And right before Hermione's bewildered eyes, Fleur twirled on the spot and disapparated with a pop.

_Shit balls, she did it again._


	2. Chapter 2

She's like a butterfly. Just when I thought I had her classified and pinned down, Fleur escapes all logic.

Hermione sighed as she logged all the evidence she gathered in her office computer. With a few taps on the keyboard coupled with a surreptitious flick of her wand, she has updated both her Head Agent at The Guild and the Police Chief Superintendent, ofcourse after omitting the magical findings for the latter.

Not that there were many to omit to begin with. The only facts she has on hand can be summed up in a few sentences. The victim's name is Gregory Rosseu, 43 years old, a French national attending a conference in London. He has no known enemies, no linkage with the magical community. He is the fifth victim of a serial murder under the hands of a magical creature. The magical creature was either rare or a new breed as their magical signature did not register in all the records of The Guild.

Hermione glanced at the pale strand of hair encased in a glass vial. She already thought of Apparating tonight at the lab but thought of clearing her head first.

Though the brunette's keen mind was eager to seize all the puzzle pieces, she couldn't seem to focus long enough because of some distracting thoughts that came in the figure of a tall, blindingly attractive part Veela.

Why did Fleur saunter into her case? Why did she appear now? She has been an inactive agent for a year. And the year before that all she got from the blonde was a hurried patronus with a cryptic message, asking her not to make any further contact due to a mission she could not disclose to anybody. Not even her.

_But who am I to her anyway?_ Hermione wondered. She thought she and Fleur formed a bond during her freshman year at The Guild. It was a reluctant bond. But it was definitely a real one nonetheless.

Hermione sank back on her leather chair and stretched her arms behind her head. A frown marred her pretty face as she stared at the mists forming on her office window. A storm of memories swirled in her mind.

THE GUILD UNIVERSITY

HERMIONE'S FRESHMAN YEAR

_Good bye pleated skirt, hello pencil cut._

Hermione mused as she surveyed her reflection in the mirror. Well she technically _looked_ grown up, with her stockinged legs, medium heeled shoes, pencil cut skirt and ivory white, silk dress shirt that hugged her womanly figure. But even though she was nineteen years old, a veteran of the War of Hogwarts and a certified N.E.W.T level witch, she could not help but feel the bubbling apprehension in her stomach.

She had no idea what she was doing. And that petrified the organised mind of Hermione Granger.

There were no course books, no potion ingredients, no syllabus. All the letter said was that all school materials will be provided once she arrives. Her new uniform, which arrived today, was also taken care of. Now all she needed to do was meet the Guild agent who will side-Apparate her to the school. He or she should be here any minute now.

'Look at you, sweetheart,' Emily Granger appeared on Hermione's bedroom doorway. Her eyes shone as she regarded her only child. 'Are you sure we only missed a year? It felt like ten years since we last saw you. I know I said this before-.'

'Mum,' Hermione sighed as she walked over towards the older woman and quickly gave her a hug. 'We talked about this. The wizard war is over, I'm safe. You and Dad are safe now. I will be fine, don't worry.'

Mrs Granger ran a shaky hand through her daughter's tresses. 'Yes I am being silly. But as long as I am your mother, I am entitled to silly,' her mum sniffed.

Hermione rested her head on her Mum's shoulder and let her hold her. She didn't want to upset her parents any further. After restoring their memories and telling them the truth about her role in the war, her usually composed parents have moved from shock, to distraught and now they are in the clingy phase. _Which they were perfectly entitled to after all they've been through_, Hermione thought.

The bright jangling of the door bell jarred the two women. Not wanting another bout of waterworks, Hermione disentangled herself from her mother, gave her a peck on the cheek and grabbed her beaded bag.

'That's my ride Mum, I'll send you an owl or call as soon as I can,' Hermione said as she made a move towards the main door. 'Give my love to Dad!'

Emily stood mutely but gave a small nod and a brave smile. Hermione's heart wrenched at the sight of her mom looking so…lost. But what can she do? She would need to make it up to them somehow. She will visit them as soon as she can. Connect their home fireplace to the Floo network. Anything so that she can assure her parents that she is alive and well.

'See you soon, Mum,' she said, almost as a promise.

The brunette squared her shoulders and opened the door.

'Ms Hermione Granger, I presume?' a tall, brawny man in a smart suit and tie greeted her. 'I'm Agent Harris from the Guild. Are you ready to go?'

Hermione stepped out of the house in response and simply said.

'Let's go.'

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When Hermione first set her eyes on the rubble that was supposed to be the Guild University, she thought they had made a wrong turn.

'Mr Harris, is this…' Hermione trailed off as the structure before her loomed clearly and occupied her entire line of sight. 'Are we at the Parthenon in Greece?' she gasped in awe.

She was staring at an ancient ruin she recognised from the glossy pages of hard-bound architectural books. The temple's massive columns were crumbled, but stood tall and proud like giant sentinels that lanced the clear blue September sky.

Agent Harris gave her a small smile. 'Quite impressive isn't it? But we are not at the Guild yet.' He strode towards the temple and Hermione tried not to skip off after him like a child going towards a toy store.

The temple looked older and dustier now that Hermione was standing on it. The empty spaces in between the columns were thick with silence and secrets. She almost thought she heard an imperceptible whispering from one of the columns.

'Here we are, the eight column to the right. If I tap my wand on this column, I would be able to pass through. But, you won't be able to…yet. Can you guess why?' Agent Harris inquired.

'It only admits Guild Agents?' Hermione didn't like to guess, but promptly responding to a question is a habit she seemed to have never shrugged off.

'It admits wizards and witches with registered wands. Just like firewall systems of muggle technology, you need a registered password to gain entry. Our passwords here are the names of our wands. I know Hogwarts doesn't teach this, as wandlore is an obscure branch of magic, but there is power in knowing your wand's name. Soon, you will see,' Agent Harris pointed his wand at Hermione.

A faint bluish white glow engulfed Hermione's head. She felt as if a light breeze caressed her temples, gently wiping all the noise in her head away.

'I cast the Lingua spell, so you will be able to understand and converse in any language, even the arcane language of wands. Speak to your wand with your mind, be respectful when you ask for its name.'

Hermione wasn't entirely sure of what she was doing, but a trickle of warmth spread across her hand that held her wand. It hummed in her palm, waiting. She took a breath. Well here goes.

_Hello, wand. I know this is rather odd. But it seems that I need to accept the assumption that you and I can talk._

_Hermione, ofcourse. We have been conversing for a long time now. I may not have a human mind, but I do have a will. And my will chose you. Back then, at Ollivander's. You recall?_

Hermione gasped. Her eyes widened. Her wand had a voice! It almost sounded like her own but somehow the timbre was deeper, like it resonated from the roots of the earth.

_Yes. I recall. Ollivander practically went mad with satisfaction when he saw you in my hand. We made blue sparks and almost set him on fire. Surprised me too. Bloody hell. This is amazing. You can talk! Oh right, I should be respectful._

_You never used me for ill will. You have been more than respectful, Hermione. Proceed with your question._

_Right. Dear… wand. May I know your name?_

The wand was silent. For a while, Hermione thought the Lingua spell had gone. Then it spoke.

_From the fierce heart of the dragon I am._

_Encased in an untamed vine of olden wood._

_A name forgotten in tomes of Latin._

Hermione thought hard. _Trust my wand not to give me a straight answer. Now, what words do I know in Latin?_

Almost immediately, her mind's eye glimmered with thousands of Latin words, like a dictionary projecting itself as a constellation. Hermione grinned. She liked this Lingua spell more and more, she must ask Harris to teach it to her one of these days.

Right. What word was she looking for? A word for fierce. Untamed.

_Ferus. _Hermione intoned in her mind. _Your name is Ferus?_

As if to nod in acknowledgement, blue bell flames shot out from her wand even if she didn't cast a spell.

'Excellent Ms Granger!' Agent Harris's booming voice broke Hermione's conversation with her wand. 'Now you can summon your wand, wherever it is, just by saying its name. You can even command it to do a spell even if its not in your hand, but that is for another lesson.'

Agent Harris gestured towards the column. 'Now, tap this column and state your wand's name in your mind.'

The point of Hermione's wand lightly touched the column. _Ferus._

The crumbling column glowed white and her wand shivered at the contact.

'Okay, keep your wand steady. I will tap my wand beside it to register you in our records. Once that's done, let's walk through. Here we go.'

As soon as both wands touched the surface, the column radiated as if it swallowed the sun. The solidity of its spherical form was slowly dissolving, turning into a column of light. With a nod from Agent Harris, Hermione left the ancient ruin and stepped into the threshold of the Guild University.

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**A/N: I seriously considered writing a separate fic for all The Guild flashbacks, but then I realised it should belong to this Peculiar story as it creates the context of Fleurmione's dynamic. Thank you all for following, for writing helpful reviews (and for making it a favourite, even if I had just one measly chapter so far). A little wave to Jules and Joan for being the first two to respond, thank you. Hope you will all stay with me as I have a twisty plot, slippery slope of fem slash goodness in store for you**. Reviews are love!


	3. Chapter 3

**…Continuation**

**The Guild – Hermione's Freshman Year**

Where Hogwarts was a majestic walled fortress, the Guild was an open palace. A marvel of marbled pavilions, villas and sprawling gardens. The air itself served as walls as Hermione could see glimmers of the potent shield that wrapped around every corner.

Beams of sunlight spilled through an amber glass ceiling, casting warm gold wherever Hermione looked. They were standing in the main entrance of what looked like a luxurious hotel lobby, complete with a white grand piano at the corner and a lounge on the other side. Fat armchairs and stuffed couches were occupied by students who spared no glance at Hermione as everyone was immersed in books, board games or twiddling with some odd looking instruments. A swath of red covered the aisle. At first Hermione thought it was an unruly carpet, but upon closer inspection she saw it was made of tiny flickering flames that people seemed to have no trouble walking on. At the end of the aisle is a grand staircase leading up to the rooms.

On the other end of the aisle, a wide expanse of gardens stretched beyond. Hermione could see a few wizards and witches whizzing a few feet above the tops of the grass without broomsticks, their reckless laughter flitted through the wind, filling her ears.

A wistful smile crossed Hermione's face, suddenly remembering Harry and Ron. An image of them stood on each side of her. Ron, ginger-haired and grinning, Harry tousled and steady, both reaching for her hands as they faced whatever life threw at them, be it Peeves' water balloons or curses hurled by Death Eaters.

The sudden longing for her two best friends felt so heavy, it was as if a giant's foot was pressing down against her chest. She thought she was past being sentimental. But here she was, her heart paralysed with nostalgia.

'Are you alright, Ms Granger?' The smooth enunciation of Agent Harris broke through Hermione's reverie.

She nodded silently and shifted her gaze away from the group of witches and wizards.

'It can be overwhelming, the novelty of everything. But soon you will find your stride and feel right where you belong,' Agent Harris consoled with a thin smile.

'Your room is up there at the staircase, the fifth one to the left. Your name is pinned on the door, can't miss it. Will convene here at the lobby in 30 minutes for your orientation.'

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Hermione was too nervous to pay her room any mind. A cursory glance would make anyone appreciate that the well-appointed quarters would not be out of place in a five-star suite. But Hermione didn't touch the silver tray of fruits and biscuits nor the bottle of mint water on her bedside table. She didn't traipse towards the bed to feel its goosefeather softness or open the magically extended wardrobe. All Hermione did was drop her beaded bag in one corner and sank down gratefully on an armchair behind a mahogany study desk. She couldn't wait to find out more about her course work at The Guild and the curiosity was eating at her.

So twenty-nine minutes on the dot, she found herself waiting a bit impatiently in the lobby with the other students. Some were nodding politely at each other, some were animatedly gabbing away. Each accent was so distinct from one another the sounds clashed like tiny chattering cymbals.

'Strange isn't it?' a voice on Hermione's left said.

She turned and saw a petite Asian girl with sun-bronzed skin and almond shaped eyes peering up at her. 'We are all so different but somehow magic made us the same,' the girl said as she offered a small thin hand. 'I'm Phomela.'

Hermione couldn't help but smile at the girl's earnestness and shook the girl's hand. 'I'm Hermione, nice to meet you. Where are you from?'

Before Phomela could reply a sudden hush filled the room. Students were pointing over at the wisps of silver smoke, swirling above their heads. It moved carefully and purposefully, rolling into a halt in front of the students. The smoke thickened in waves, solidifying into a human form.

In a second, the students were looking at an elderly witch whose power pulsed quietly across the room. She wore a white tunic that flowed at the edges as if it was submerged underwater. Her hair had vivid streaks of silver and black, framing a strong, Hispanic-looking face. Her deep-set eyes of flickering indigo regarded each student with bright interest.

'Welcome new students. I am Edra Azriel, Chief Agent of The Guild. You may call me Chief Edra,' the woman addressed them in a voice that was soft yet commanding. 'From this day forward, you are no longer just a witch or wizard from your country. You, future Guild Agents, are protectors of the world.

'Our world faces magical threats every day. Some threats fester quickly and visibly. Some are slow and well concealed, a thought that gnaws at the minds of the darkest wizard. A skilled Guild Agent detects the subtlest threats and averts them before they manifest. In here, knowing is not just half the battle. It is winning before it's begun.

'Your training requires mental agility, emotional resilience and physical stamina. The first year is especially crucial to start your foundation right. This is why before you commence classes tomorrow, each of you will be assigned a mentor. Your mentor will orient you about the finer points of The Guild's culture, philosophy and discipline. Though they are your fellow students, you are expected to give your mentors respect, as they will help your transition here run smoothly. Questions?'

Hermione glanced at the other students. Most of them were, like her, processing what was said. Hermione hoped she would have a kind, patient mentor who won't be as intimidating as Chief Edra. She pictured someone amiable, like Prof Flitwick, or maybe even a gentler version of Prof McGonagall.

'Excelente! Now, follow me to the gardens where you will meet your mentors.' Chief Edra said with a cryptic smile. 'Be sure to have your wands at the ready.'

Hermione and the other students shuffled outside the main hall after Chief Edra. She exchanged a puzzled look with Phomela.

'You think she wants us to fight our mentors?' Hermione inquired.

Phomela shrugged and gingerly took out her wand that seemed to be made of hewn bamboo. 'Maybe. But I for one don't want to be knocked unconscious on my first day.'

Hermione agreed wholeheartedly and clutched Ferus tightly in her palm.

The gardens looked like an Impressionist's painting. The colours dappled and shifted at the lightest touch of the sun. The grass were tufts of emeralds that tickled the ankles. An orchard of assorted trees clustered around several ponds and gurgling brooks. Tropical coloured birds swooped in and out, their cries where musical notes that pleasantly filled the air.

'Students, your task is simple. We are to assemble at the Pavilion at the other end of this garden,' Chief Edra said, pointing towards north. 'On the way you will encounter our senior students. Each of them will attempt to know your wand's name. They will use spells and stealth to get this information against your will. The mark of a good Guilder is their ability to keep secrets and the skill in which they extract them. Protect your wand's name as much as you can. If you fail, the student who unlocks your wand's name will be your mentor. If you succeed in keeping it secret, you will get to choose your mentor among our senior students and staff members. Understood?'

There was a collective 'yes' and nods among the students. Hermione nodded absently, her mind going a mile a minute about what she could remember about Occlumency from Harry. She vaguely recalled about keeping one's mind blank, but nothing else. She now wished she paid more attention to what her friend said instead of constantly nagging him about it.

'Okay, spread out. Give each other a wide berth. Move along. At my signal. Ready…Go!'

Without a second to spare, students shot off towards the northern direction.

_Competitive much? This isn't a race. This is about being careful._

Hermione thought as she wended her way through a copse of palm trees and cherry blossoms. She pointed her wand at her clothes and muttered 'Colos'. Immediately, her dress shirt and skirt changed to the same hue as the tree bark. Hermione considered smearing a handful of mud on her face to complete the look when she heard a voice behind her.

'An amateurish camouflage, but still admirable for a freshman.' A deep baritone rumbled behind Hermione.

Hermione whirled around and ducked as she saw a flash of red. The spell exploded against the palm tree where her head was a second ago.

Without pausing for breath, Hermione raised her wand and shot a spell at the direction she perceived the red flash came from. _Petrificus Totalus!_

A six-foot man suddenly materialised out of thin air. His look of barely registered surprise was frozen on his bearded face as he lurched forwards like a falling tree.

'Sorry,' Hermione said as she dashed onward and ran alongside the brook that led north. She made a mental note that these senior students apparently can make themselves invisible without a cloak. _I better be careful_ _and observe my surroundings more. _

Hermione spied a cluster of large rocks and she swiftly flattened herself behind it.

The only problem was, somebody was already hiding behind the rocks.

The brunette didn't know who was surprised more. The girl, nay, woman–judging from the ample chest that was now cushioning Hermione- or the brunette herself who was dumbstruck at the sight of two, startlingly blue eyes gazing at her in wild surprise.

_She looks familiar. Shit, it's-_

'Fleur?'

''Ermione?'

For a full quiet minute, all that Hermione registered was how absolutely soft and firm the blonde felt pressed against her. And that Fleur was heartbreakingly stunning up close. She had never noticed how long those lashes really were, how they cast a shadow over the sapphire pupils underneath. How Fleur's lips were slightly heart-shaped, a full plump bottom lip, framed by a thin, curvy upper lip which was now currently lifting ever so slightly at the corners into the tiniest of grins.

'We might az well cut to ze chase and tell me your wand's name, hmm?' Fleur murmured. 'After all, 'oo better to mentor you zan zomeone you know, ma cherie?' Her delicate scent of almond and vanilla cradled Hermione lightly, easing all her thoughts away. An elegant hand perched on Hermione's shoulders, resting almost innocently if not for the heat that permeated the brunette's skin. At the back of the younger witch's mind, she recognised the early signs of a Veela's thrall about to be unleashed.

The brunette almost nodded her head in agreement with the blonde's proposal when her rational mind kicked in. _Ofcourse! Fleur would use her natural charms first before she fights. I am _not_ giving in that easily._

Hermione pried herself apart from Fleur, like iron trying valiantly to escape a magnetic field that pulled her in.

_No. I will not succumb to your thrall. _Hermione thought as she forcefully stood away from Fleur. _Expelliarmus!_

The blonde must've cast a shield charm in advance as Hermione's disarming spell did absolutely nothing to her. Not even ruffle the perfect hair of Fleur Delacour.

The part-Veela smiled gamely at the younger witch, before she gracefully leapt from the rocks and sprinted to another direction.

For a moment, Hermione was puzzled as to why the blonde would retreat so easily from battle. If she knew anything about the former Tri-Wizard champion, is that she was haughty and proud and-

Hermione paid dearly for her brief lapse. An invisible force hurled her towards a nearby apple tree, knocking the breath out of her. Her wand fell to the grass as her back was pinned in place against rough bark.

Fleur stepped into view, her wand triumphantly directed towards Hermione's heart.

'Je suis desolee 'Ermione. You should've just told me your wand's name when we were so cosy, chatting behind ze rock. Surely, that waz a more comfortable positione zan zis one, mm?' the blonde chuckled with deep amusement.

Hermione didn't give Fleur another chance to form another thought. She screamed in her mind.._Ferus!_

The moment her fallen wand jumped to her hand, Hermione broke free from Fleur's binding spell. And in one swift motion she jabbed the wand towards Fleur with a loud 'Expelliarmus!'

Fleur momentarily opened her mouth in surprise as her wand flew violently away from her grasp. She narrowed her eyes at the brunette and enunciated clearly. 'Ferus.'

Hermione was flabbergasted. Her wand.. her ol' faithful wand slipped away from hand like wet soap and arced through the air towards Fleur. With a triumphant grin, Fleur easily caught Hermione's wand. And in the next second, she summoned her own wand in her other hand.

Two wands and a pair of twinkling sapphires pointed at Hermione.

'Do you surrender now, mon _étudiante?_'

Hermione couldn't believe Fleur could easily uncover her wand's name. Did she read her mind? Did she use the Legilimens spell? Whatever it was, the blonde obviously knew what she was doing. Maybe, just maybe, she was the perfect mentor for her after all.

The brunette nodded once at Fleur and ducked her head in reluctant defeat.

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**A/N: A little holler to 'Tux' who looked forward to doing laundry and waiting patiently for this update. To kilcher and monkgirl, as it is my custom to give the first few reviewers a little grin and a hey. Again thank you for following and favouriting. I am not my boss's favourite as of now as my mind kept drifting during office hours to all the things I wanted to include in this chapter. It was incredibly long, I wanted to snip it some more but I realised that would take a lot more time. Will be doing one more flashback chapter, then after that will swing back to the present day. In case I don't see you around, I wish you and your family a merry yuletide. :-)**

**A follow is a pat.**

**A review is a pet.**

**Merry petting everyone! (yes i don't make much sense right now, need to get back to work. arg)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Continuation..**

**The Guild- Hermione's Freshman Year**

'So, what's your mentor like?'

Phomela rested her elbows on the round maple table, chin propped up on her palms, head leaning eagerly towards Hermione who was poring over the pages of The Guild guidebook given to her by Fleur a few weeks ago. The two freshmen were spending a rare free period in a treehouse café behind the Library. The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy, accenting the café's timber interiors with a warm copper finish. A cup of latte lay forgotten beyond Hermione's grasp.

'She's... passable.' Hermione shrugged. A tiny frown creased her forehead as her fingers pinched the corner of a page, poised to turn.

Phomela let out a loud snort that startled a couple of perched tropical birds away.

This tugged Hermione's attention to the Asian girl.

'What?'

'That's all? I just told you about Beardman, my mental mentor. In coloured detail. And all I get is one adjective about yours? She's _Fleur Delacour_, the woman who broke through Chief Edra's high security office, one of the top students in her year and a former cover girl of Cosmo Witch. And the only word you can dredge up to describe her is _passable_?'

'Geez, Phomela. If I hadn't known any better, I'd say you are infatuated with her.' A wry grin escaped Hermione's lips as her eyes flitted back to her page.

Phomela blew her dark bangs off her face and grinned. '_Everyone_ is in different gradients of infatuation with her. You only pretend not to be affected because you probably have gone beyond besotted with her.'

_Beyond besotted?_

For some reason unbeknownst to Hermione, the phrase riled her feathers. Or in this case, her mane of untamed hair. Hermione slammed her book shut and launched a volley of words at the unblinking Asian.

'Honestly, she's just an ordinary person, Phomela. Yes, she may be part-Veela and a bloody brilliant student, but that doesn't mean arias and princesses fly through her bottom. Now, if you have nothing in mind but insinuating drivel, I'm going to class.'

* * *

The truth is, Hermione didn't know how to describe Fleur exactly. She knew for a fact that she wasn't besotted with her. But she did find the French woman quite... perplexing. There was no concise adjective to contain her in. She can only glimpse her different facets, the same way she can only grasp the nuances of the sky but not see the entire horizon.

During the Tri-Wizard tournament, Fleur was just a haughty, vain, egotistical woman who made Ron punch drunk. That was the only reason why she found the blonde annoying.

As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, she was an ally who efficiently tended to her wounds after escaping the horrifying terror that was Bellatrix and her blade. She was just Bill's girlfriend who helped out when needed. In between her silent glances and feverish focus to help Hermione heal, she decided Fleur wasn't annoying after all. But she wasn't her favourite person in the world either.

At The Guild, Fleur was respected and beloved. She knows the right words to say to lure in someone's trust. She was a chameleon that shifted between open and enigmatic, rarely revealing about herself but is always vocal about her opinions on everything else.

And she definitely did not hesitate to share her opinions about Hermione.

'You over zink, 'Ermione, zat's ze problem.' The quarter Veela said as the two entered a long, eerily quiet stone passage. All sound seemed to be vacuumed by the dense, night air. They were in the midst of a conjured mission to retrieve a scroll of rare spells.

'Shh, now is not the time for one of your lectures, Fleur.' Hermione hissed. She pressed her back against the cobbled wall and pointed her wand at a blind curve of the torch-lit passage before them. _Homenum Revelio_.

'I am your mentor. I am entitled to give my unbiased observation. You are clever but overly cautious. You need to-'

A black mist caught the blonde's attention. It slithered from the gaps between the cobbled walls.

'I need to what?' Chestnut eyes searched suddenly alert sapphires.

'Hermione, don't move,' Fleur warned.

A thin misty tentacle curled around Hermione's neck. It closed around her throat and cuffed her wrists, trapping her wand arm at her side. A numbing chill began to crawl from the top of her scalp and clawed at her lungs.

'Fleur…' Hermione choked.

'Confringo Precis.' A spear of fire rocketed from Fleur's wand. With a careful flick of her wrist, the spear slashed the black mist into falling, tattered ribbons.

Hermione took in a huge gulp of oxygen as she broke free. 'Thanks.'

A deep rumble, barely a quiver, disturbed the dust on their feet. In unison, the two women glanced back and saw the black mist pouring from every crevice of the walls and floors, forming a massive entity that swallowed all light, sound and any matter that it trampled on. It expanded and crested, an avalanche of darkness crashing towards their direction.

'_Merde_. Zey already know we are 'ere. Let's go.'

Fleur laced her fingers through Hermione's, pulling the brunette forward with surprising force. They ran as fast as their legs could carry them.

Hermione could feel the bite of the numbing cold chasing the back of her heels. Without pausing to look, she aimed her wand behind her back and shrieked 'Immobulus Maxima!'

The numbing cold receded, but the brunette didn't stop to look if her Freezing Charm worked.

Fleur glanced back at the halting black mass, her cobalt eyes shone in subtle praise of Hermione's skill. She pulled the brunette again as they scrambled up a spiral staircase that vertically stretched to the highest point of the tower. 'We 'ave only a few minutes left zo retrieve ze scroll. Can you move any faster?'

'I'm trying, Fleur.' Hermione panted as she tried to keep up with the longer legged witch.

''old me.' Fleur commanded as she opened her arms to Hermione.

'What?'

Fleur huffed impatiently as she encircled her arms around the brunette's waist to get her meaning across.

'If you don't 'old me, you will fall,' Fleur said as she stepped closer to secure the smaller witch against her form.

The urgency of Fleur's voice snapped her into action. Hermione slung her arms around the taller witch and found her chin resting against a strong shoulder. It was a good thing too, as she thought she left her jaw behind when she saw two majestic wings tear away from fabric and unfurl from Fleur's back. The next thing she knew they were escaping gravity and the swirling darkness below.

They hurtled upward. Fleur's great wings beat noiselessly, whipping wind into Hermione's face. 'Fleur, look out!' She dug her fingers into the blonde's arm as they careened sharply to the right to avoid falling rubble. The narrow tower shook, seemingly gathering forces before it turned into an earth-shattering quake. This was not the first time a conjured mission self-destructed when students reached the time limit. The simulation may not be real, but the pain of getting wounded was real enough.

The lack of steady ground beneath her feet and the impending catastrophe of getting smashed by tons of stone made Hermione's heart plummet. The only solid thing she could anchor on was Fleur.

Fleur and her damning composure. Her gentle strength and careless grace, evident even in flight. She was so used to being the ever-reliable-Hermione. The one who always made sure there were enough supplies for the Trio's hunt for Horcruxes. The one who memorised, double and triple checked spells beyond their required readings so she can protect her friends or family when needed. The thought of relying on someone completely wasn't only alien. It was unnerving and a different kind of terrifying. And the fact that she instinctively knew she could trust Fleur with her life opened a vista of other thoughts she dared not define.

'Fleur, I had no idea you could do this.' Hermione said, trying to latch on any thought to calm her thundering heart.

The part Veela peered at the brunette whose face was buried on the crook of her shoulder. A mischievous grin tickled her lips as she let her voice deliberately brush against the other witch's ear. 'Eef zere is one zing you must learn cherie, is zat it is good zo 'ave an element of surprise.'

* * *

Hermione's bag bulged conspicuously. No matter how thoroughly she cast her extendable charm, there was no hiding that she was lugging along something big.

She waited for a chance to corner Fleur all day. It was near the end of April, and the pleasant blanket of warmth that was summer has descended upon the grounds of The Guild. Though the rigour of her training has kept her heavily occupied that she had barely time to script a reply to her parents or Harry and Ron, she knew she had to make time for this particular blonde on this particular day.

The brunette saw her chance after dinner. She spied that silvery mane weaving fluidly against the current of students towards the villas where the senior students resided. Until now, she had no clue where her mentor slept, as she was always blocked at the villa's steps by an invisible barrier. She better hurry as the blonde was a few strides away from the said shield.

'Fleur! Wait up!' She hollered as she sprinted towards the older witch.

'So finally, my stalker approaches,' Fleur said in way of greeting.

Hermione caught her breath, aghast at what she heard. 'You _are_ still as vain as I remember. I'm not _stalking_ you.'

'Really?' A perfectly plucked blonde brow arched up. 'Breakfast, you hovered near my table. Third period, while I was walking down ze 'allway I saw your foot peeking out from behind ze column. Fifth period, in ze library, a pair of curious chocolate eyes peered from behind a stack of books…"

'Fine! Fine! I _was_ following you. But not to stalk you. I just wanted to give you this.'

And Fleur was floored when she saw an enormous package, wrapped in silver and powder blue paper, adorned with royal blue satin ribbons. The blonde grasped the rectangular gift, the size of a door, in both hands. A look of incredulous wonder flitted through her usual stoic mask.

'Happy Birthday, Fleur,' Hermione breathed. Pleased that for once, she could witness an unguarded reaction from the blonde.

'But 'ow did you… I never zold anyone. I never-'

Hermione's stepped closer to cut through Fleur's uncharacteristic sputtering. 'Surprised?'

A beatific smile, unlike any she has seen on the part-Veela's face before, beamed at Hermione. And before she knew it, she was pulled into the shelter of the blonde's arms, filling her senses with almonds, vanilla, and warm, silky lips that blazed a trail on her cheeks.

'Merci beaucoup, 'Ermione,' Fleur whispered as she pressed fluttering butterfly kisses near the younger witch's throat.

Hermione could only mutely receive the assault of affection. Her arms fastened around the blonde's back, she closed her eyes to steady her increasingly erratic pulse.

Another facet was revealed to the younger witch that day. She realised Fleur was far more dangerous when kind.

* * *

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**Present Day**

Hermione strode with purpose towards the lone, red phone booth across her office. It was already late in the night, and the unforgiving cold of London slapped her awake. She just needed to go to the lab before she can call it a day. The pale hair in the vial may open another angle to her dead end case.

An irregular shaped shadow in her periphery made her summon Ferus in her hand. She non-verbally cast a Protego spell for extra measure. She detoured away from the phone booth and headed to the most crowded area she could think of.

The pub was bustling on this Friday night. Hermione removed her shield as she wove through the crowd of people of boisterous football fans huddled in front of a large TV. She was almost at the bar when she felt a hand closing on her wrist.

Instinctively, she pulled her wrist, along with the grasping hand, in a swift pirouette. Off-balanced, the intruder fell back and relinquished its hold.

'Easy, 'Ermione. It's just me.' The part Veela looked a tad worn and weary. But a buoyant grin lifted her features. 'Is that 'ow you usually greet friends you 'aven't seen in awhile, mon amis?'

Hermione couldn't help it. She flung herself towards the blonde and tackled her into a back-crushing hug. 'It's been two years, Fleur. I wasn't the one who disappeared.'

'Well..' The blonde gasped. 'If you let me breathe, then maybe I'll tell you why?'

If Hermione wasn't caught up in missing Fleur, she would've noticed the blonde's hand deftly pocketing a glass vial.

'I'm all ears, Fleur.' Hermione said as she released the blonde from her hold. 'Tell me everything you've been up to.'

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**A/N: Thank you for your patience dear readers. I zipped out of the country for a lesbian union ceremony (not mine) and a family Christmas thing. So I cobbled this together whenever I could. I apologise if this is a bit jerky and not as smooth as the previous chapters. I will make my edits later on.**

**I thoroughly enjoyed reading your thoughts. Even from the anonymous ones. A special thank you to those who made me ponder more about my plot… monkgirl, Sleep and Dream, Ariarebele and ofcourse, Tux. I hope you haven't regretted placing me in your roster of favourite authors as I thought my stories (OITNB and this one) are still in its preliminary stage… a blossoming of what it can be. But not yet there. **

**I hope life is kind to all of you dear readers. Stay in touch. See you with an update soon. =)**


	5. Chapter 5

(This chapter is dedicated to my gf, J. Thank you for understanding why I cloister myself in quiet solitude when I write. To my readers, here is a lengthy chunk for you to chew. Enjoy!)

* * *

Fleur led Hermione to the pub's back alley.

'You know, if you want a bit of privacy… I would suggest somewhere less dingy.' Hermione's nose wrinkled at the stench of dried vomit, extinguished cigarettes and the lingering spirits of spilled alcohol. 'Are you sure you want to talk _here_?'

Fleur's look evaporated Hermione's thoughts of repugnant smells.

Sapphire eyes slowly traced Hermione, a sculptor committing to memory every line, curve and inflection of the woman before her. Fleur's mind tangled in those dark auburn curls, those embers of chocolate eyes always alight with intelligence, the most expressive lips that quirked, twitched and danced to every mood.

She longed to let the younger witch know just how much she missed her. But to reveal so would show weakness. And Fleur didn't do vulnerability with ease. Not now when so many things depended on her strength. She hoped this would be enough. Hoped that her eyes would give eloquence to the silence of her lips.

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably. She never felt this devoured by a gaze before. Not even in the most intimate moments with her ex-boyfriend Ron. Nor in those stolen minutes around Hogwarts with Viktor. She forgot how intense Fleur could be. How being in her mere presence could make her feel so many mercurial emotions that threatened to break free from the calm surface. She was about to speak when she felt the softness of Fleur's hand slipping into hers.

'Do you trust me, 'Ermione?'

Of all the things the brunette thought Fleur would say. It wasn't this. But a question was asked, and Hermione's inner gears kicked into a response.

'Ofcourse. Fleur, is there something wrong?' She thought she glimpsed a passing turbulence in those cerulean eyes.

Fleur responded by fully wrapping her fingers around the younger witch's. Her grip strong and certain as they disappeared into the night.

* * *

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Hermione guessed they were pretty high above ground. They stood outside a vermilion red door of a blue-roofed bungalow that stood atop a hill. Plump shrubs of purple juniper and towering spruce fenced the house, providing a natural camouflage from roving eyes. Not that there would be any other eyes around as the house was secluded without another structure in sight as far as the eyes could see.

Once inside, Hermione was led to a cosy sitting room where a fireplace crackled merrily into life, suffusing her with a mild, toasty warmth. She jumped as she felt the brush of heated fingers on her shoulders.

'Your coat, Mademoiselle?' Fleur's heart-shaped lips quirked into an easy smile.

Hermione sheepishly shrugged off her leather coat and scarf. It was hard to switch off her senses when being in a new place… and being in the company of someone familiar yet new.

'This is my 'ead quarters for now.' The blonde said as she slid off her own coat and carefully draped it with Hermione's on the rack. She wore slim fit khakis with a midnight blue knit top that made her locks pale platinum and her eyes a lighter hue of blue.

With a graceful wave of her wand, Fleur lit all the lamps, arranged skewed furniture, re-capped ink bottles and snapped shut books and parchment that were splayed open on a long, driftwood table. The house resembled a work station more than a residence. Cups with remnants of coffee could be found here and there. A flatscreen muggle computer sat at a desk by the window. Whitewashed brick walls were covered from floor to ceiling by books and framed paintings of elegant swords and oddly shimmering weapons. Fleur noted the younger witch's eyes eagerly sweeping through the titles emblazoned on the book spines and decided it was time to distract the other witch from deep diving into curiosity. 'Would you like some refreshments. Wine, per'aps?'

'I.. maybe another time, Fleur. I still need to do something for work later. Speaking of which, what brought you to my crime scene this morning?' Hermione, always direct, took a seat on an avocado green easy chair. She crossed her ankles, straightened her back and looked at the blonde witch expectantly.

Fleur sighed, her shoulders wilted a fraction. She knew that look. A look that says, 'There is no escaping the inquisition of Hermione Granger'. If she truly wanted to be in the younger witch's good graces, she better not show any outward unwillingness to answer her question. _But maybe if I play my cards right?_

An idea kindled in the French witch's mind as she disappeared into the kitchen. She re-emerged with a floating tray of honey wine, grilled cheese sandwiches, and a stack of cards.

'Per'aps a light snack and a game of Trade, hmm?' The blonde suggested with a charming smile as she settled the tray and deck of cards on a round coffee table beside the younger witch.

Hermione stared at the cards as if it were laced with a Basilisk's venom.

Trade was a dangerous game The Guild students play. Certain cards have the power to make your tongue give voice to truths hidden in your mind. It was a trade of truth or lies, depending on one's skill in deception.

Hermione only played the game once with Phomela with disastrous results. She recoiled at the truths she was forced to admit that time. At how she felt that deep down, Ron wasn't _the One_. How, even after all these years, she was still plagued by thoughts of not being good enough, that she needed to constantly disprove the fallacy of muggleborns being less magical. She also admitted that she thought Fleur was intriguing and mesmerising, much to Phomela's glee. She never lived those taunts down.

'_No_, Fleur. I'm rubbish in that game.' Hermione crossed her arms, chin jutted out to punctuate her dislike.

'If memory serves, ze 'Ermione I know can accomplish anything she sets 'er mind to,' Fleur said as she settled on the easy chair opposite the brunette. 'If you want answers to your questions, here is your chance mon amis.'

Hermione sighed. _Why do I always find myself in this dance with Fleur? Why can't we just tell each other things like normal people, instead of this tango of conceal or confess?_

Because Fleur is a labyrinth she loved getting lost in. And here she was. Drawn into those sea blue depths once again. Fleur was still as confident and enigmatic as she remembered, but at the same time there was a new mellowness, a certain weariness she didn't see in the part Veela before. There were faint circles underneath her eyes, and an imperceptible dimness in those blue irises. _What happened to her? She's hiding something. Why is she so reluctant to tell me?_

'Fine. I call the first card,' Hermione said in resignation.

The blonde let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. They both took turns in shuffling the onyx black cards and swept it across the table, face down.

Hermione slowed her breath and relaxed her mind. Deception didn't come naturally, but she will try. She picked out a card and read the words scripted in bright green ink set against black.

_A Lie for a Lie_. This was easy enough. The brunette blurted the simplest lie her mind could summon.

'I'm an American guy who digs chicks.'

'I'm..' Fleur struggled momentarily. 'A virgin 'oo freezes in bed.'

The card escaped Hermione's grasp and flew to Fleur. One point for the part Veela.

'What?' The brunette exclaimed in disbelief. 'It _was_ a lie for lie. Why did I lose the trade?'

'Though you are clearly not male, per'aps it is not too clear whether you don't really _dig chicks_ 'Ermione. Or maybe you lacked conviction in your lying.'

'You mean not as convincing as your lie of not being hot to trot?'

A nonchalant shrug was Fleur's reply along with a rogue wink. 'Wouldn't _you_ like to know?'

Hermione's mouth hung open at the blonde's audacity. She flicked a crumb of bread at Fleur's face which the blonde deftly blocked with an Impervious spell. Trying to dispel the thoughts of Fleur and her self-proclaimed prowess in bed, Hermione poured herself a flask of honey wine and chewed on the still warm, grilled cheese sandwich. She hadn't realised she was hungry.

Fleur followed her lead and took a sip from her own flask. The vestiges of formality ebbed as both women felt the soothing lull of the liquor. The blonde kicked off her boots and freed her hair from its pins. She observed the other witch over the rim of her flask, noting the shoulders that rolled into a relaxed posture and the way her teeth tore off bits of the sandwich with relish.

The blonde chuckled inwardly. She quite missed seeing this worry-free Hermione and hoped that the game will smooth over some of the creases in the younger witch's mind. She reached out for her card. _A Lie for a Truth._ Now this is interesting. If she made her lie good enough, Hermione wouldn't be able to resist telling the truth.

'I never missed you after I left.' The blonde lied smoothly.

Hermione felt the enchantment on her tongue, urging her to speak the truth. She knew if she overcame the charm, Fleur's trade won't succeed and she would snatch one point from the blonde. She furrowed her brow in concentration to stop the words from being wrenched from her mouth.

'I…' Hermione began and bit her lip. _Breathe and lie to her. Lie_. 'I thought of you always.'

Hermione slapped her palm against her forehead as the card flew to Fleur's pile of wins. What a stupid thing to say. Of all the truths she could've carefully worded, she had to say the one closest to her heart. She cast an apprehensive look at the older witch who refilled her flask of honey wine and seemed entirely unaffected by her admission. She didn't know what the trade was about, whether it was truth for a truth, or a lie for a truth, all she knew was that Fleur must not win this game.

She vowed to watch her words with vigilance. She won herself several points for random truths that threw Fleur off guard (I'm wearing a black lacy Victoria Secret lingerie) and some easy lies (I love to spend my free time drooling about Quidditch players). Fleur met her head on in her strategy and indulged Hermione with tidbits that made Hermione gulp and sputter her wine (I first learned 'ow zo French kiss with my friend Celine) and (I never liked being stared at, but I don't mind if _you_ do).

Later in the game, things started to get sticky. For whom, remains to be seen.

Hermione drew a breath as she held a card. _A Question for an Answer_…but she had too many questions. Which one to ask?

'Why did you break your engagement with Bill Weasley?'

Fleur sighed, steeling herself from answering.

'Because I didn't love him anymore and I thought I was falling for someone else.'

This was a surprise.

Though having won the point, Hermione looked less than pleased. An unspoken question of 'Who' bloomed across her face. Eyes bugged from their sockets, lips withdrawn, cheeks inflated, the brunette looked like she was about to burst from withholding the unasked question.

'Breathe ma belle. Maybe you'll get another chance to ask a question, oui?' The blonde's hand picked another card.

_A Secret for a Secret_. This is the one card Fleur wanted to avoid. She could refuse making the trade and let the point pass for both of them. Will she let this one pass?

She took a breath. _If she finds out what I've been up to, will she leave me be?_ A smidgen of a grin tugged at her lips. If there is one thing she knew about Hermione is that she is relentless in her pursuit of what she thinks is right. She needs to carefully word what she was about to say.

'I have personal interest in ze case you are 'andling. I have been investigating it for more zan a year without ze Guild's knowledge.'

So many questions stormed Hermione's mind. She knew Fleur was being deliberately ambiguous, but at least now she can hazard a guess of why she was at her crime scene. This case, the peculiar case of mighty dead men. If Fleur has been looking at it longer than she has, she must know some leads.

If she wins this game, she can call the terms of the final trade.

'I…' Hermione faltered, feeling the press of magic probing her undisclosed thoughts like a flashlight torching the darkest chambers of her mind. _Tell her about your most secret desires. How you long to feel her, know her, to delve into her depths._

_No! _Her cheeks burned at the maelstrom of images in her mind. _Tell her something she already knows. No secrets. Just facts. Stick to the case. I can do that._

'The latest victim of the case I am investigating is Gregory Rosseu from France.'

The card flew to Hermione. _Yes! _They were now neck in neck. Only one card left and it was the younger witch's turn.

_Please let this be easy. Please let me win._

Hermione cleared her mind and read her card.

_A Future Hope for a Past Memory. _This should be interesting. She ransacked her brain for her brightest hope. She knew the stronger it is, the harder for the other party to resist the trade from being made.

She closed her eyes and remembered Dobby and his different coloured socks.

'That all house elves are free from slavery, with commensurate compensation, healthcare and the right to lead a life of their choosing.'

So fervent was her hope that a white wisp immediately escaped from Fleur's temples and descended on Hermione.

Fleur's memory was crystal clear, she felt physically transported to that moment.

_She saw the Great Hall of Hogwarts fully decked with pine trees, holly, icicle sculptures and drifting snow. The sea of students mingled and swayed to rhythmic music. They were all dressed in their best dress robes._

_A gaggle of girls from Beauxbatons were eyeing a dancing couple. Hermione realised they were looking at her fourteen-year-old self with Viktor Krum. _

_'I don't get it, what does 'e see in 'er? 'e could've ask anyone, why 'er?'_

_'She's way too young for him. Look, she's as flat as a blackboard.' _

_'If only 'e asked our champione. Zat will surely make Beauxbatons headline again. Don't you zink so, Fleur?'_

Hermione's face heated up. Her fists clenched. Why is Fleur showing this to her?

_'Ee's not my type.' Came Fleur's firm voice 'And eef you look closely at 'er, you will see 'ow obvious it eez zat she is growing to be a beautiful woman. I've seen 'er spellwork with Potter. She eez a brilliant witch and she 'as this crusade zo protect 'ouse elves. I zink she is more interesting zan you give credit for.'_

_'Mon Dieu, Fleur. Since when are you into underdeveloped girls?'_

_The memory faded with the sound of guffaws and giggles._

Present Fleur suddenly stood up. Alarmed at everything that Hermione just witnessed. For the first time in the brunette's memory, she saw the blonde's cheeks flush with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

'Je suis désolé. I apologise for ze despicable behaviour of zose girls, 'Ermione. Zey were young, but zat is no excuse for insulting you.'

Hermione was too stunned to speak. At the time when she despised Fleur for being too beautiful, too distracting for Ron, the blonde witch actually defended her and found her _interesting_? This was too good to be true. But the furious look in those eyes spoke the truth.

The younger witch stood up and reached for Fleur's hand. 'It's okay, Fleur. You defended me, I couldn't care less what those girls thought of me. Merci.'

Fleur looked at their entwined hands. Hermione's was smaller, a bit calloused between the thumb and index finger, a testament of how the witch had spent many an hour writing with a quill or wielding a wand. She knew the younger witch looked up to her somehow because she was her mentor. But she never let on how much she admired her, even back then in Hogwarts. To have been in battle so young, to have risked her life not just for a friend but for the whole wizarding world. It was Hermione who has done so much, gave too much. She deserves someone who will be loyal, who will never lie to her. Someone who is not her.

The blonde witch sighed as she reluctantly withdrew her hand and sat back down. 'I believe you have won ze game, 'Ermione. What is your call for ze final Trade?'

Hermione wondered at the sudden distance. After seeing the memory, after noting the blonde's not-so-subtle flirtation and charged banter, she thought there could be a chance…a maybe of what could be. Fleur was back to her formal, aloof self again. She sighed as she sank back to her chair. Another time perhaps. For now she needs, as Ron would put it, to sort out her priorities.

Emotions seemed to have clogged her voice. Hermione cleared her throat. 'I would like to trade a Question for an Answer.'

The blonde nodded once, her lips set in a firm line as if to brace herself from an attack.

'Why are you personally interested in the case I'm investigating?'

Fleur considered lying to Hermione. She really wanted to. But those intelligent chocolate eyes held her and searched her, twin beacons that are about to glimpse her rage, her catastrophic storm. No matter how much she can prolong this, she knew the younger witch will remain relentless.

The truth. Maybe it is time for the truth, no matter how unkind.

'The serial killer you are looking for is a siren. She murdered my sister Gabrielle almost two years ago. When I find 'er, I will not apprehend 'er. I will kill her. And anyone who stops me will be my enemy. Comprenez-vous, 'Ermione?'

* * *

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**A/N: Whew. That was heavy, even for me. Thank you, Joan for the first comment in chapter 4. Yes, better get used to cliffhangers my dear, but I promise to make the wait worth your while. To those who reviewed, thank you for stopping by. As I mentioned, writing can be a solitary endeavour, so it is nice to hear your thoughts. Points to my gf and to Tux for guessing correctly that Fleur's mysterious sleight of hand has something to do with Gabrielle. Though my mind had a darker but not entirely hopeless scenario. And thank you for the 'non-jerky' feedback.**

**I am heavily laden with work these coming weeks. So I apologise in advance if I could not update soon enough. Rest assured, my mind already plotted the next chapter. Stay tuned!**


	6. Chapter 6

The wind howled and raged in those stormy blue eyes. A storm that promised devastation and death in its wake. Fleur's skin and hair gleamed silvery white, a radiance that rivaled the moon. It would have been a beautiful incandescence if not for the livid vengeance etched on Fleur's features.

For the first time the younger witch fully understood how Fleur has carefully kept her Veela heritage concealed, that it was always there just underneath the tenuous surface. The blonde's raw emotion made her magical ancestry take command.

Hermione felt a shudder in her heart. Not out of fear of Fleur, but fear for Fleur. _How can someone so fierce be so fragile?_

'Fleur…' Hermione struggled for words. What do you say to someone who had experienced a devastating loss? 'Fleur, I'm sorry about Gabrielle. I.. cannot imagine the pain you must feel-'

'Non, 'Ermione. I do not need sympathy.' Fleur cut in before the brunette could utter another consoling word. 'What I need is justice. I will find this siren and end 'er. Zis creature does not deserve to breathe when my Gabrielle does not breathe, does not laugh… does not exist in zis world.'

'Fleur, you can't….' Hermione wrung her hands with desperation. 'You will split your soul. If you kill her, you will be ripped apart. Believe me, when Voldemort-'

"Ow dare you compare me to ze Dark Wizard!' Fleur spat. She stood and towered over Hermione. Magic sizzled and cracked like miniature lightning from her hands. Flecks of silver flashed in her eyes. 'He killed to be immortal. He killed because of power. I will only kill in honour of Gabrielle. You wouldn't understand 'Ermione. Zis is Veela justice. We protect our loved ones… and if we fail, we avenge them.'

It was a mark of a true Gryffindor that Hermione faced the tempest that was Fleur without flinching. 'I may not understand. And I may not know the ways of the Veela…but I _do_ know killing changes people. It will change _you_, Fleur.'

'My dear, 'Ermione. What makes you think I am still the same?' The blonde said so quietly, so desolately, the words were felt more than heard. And Hermione felt the hollowness that cleaved and drained all warmth and life away from Fleur.

And there it was. The weariness in those shoulders. The dimness in those eyes. The absence of light. Now it was plain to see what made this Fleur different from the one Hermione remembered. The blonde was encased in thick grief, hardened into loathing. A stone cold armour that will not yield until it fulfills its quest for blood.

The silence stretched taut. Tense and still as a violin string.

Hermione knew that any utterance of the wrong word will make the part Veela snap, or worse, break down. But she needs to get through her, let her see the logic, or the lack of it, in her plan.

Imploring brown eyes reached into those icy blue depths that have descended into an abyss. The part Veela avoided her gaze. She only stared at her hands that were still emitting tiny volts of magic. She focused her eyes, took a deep breath and her Veela magic was contained and hidden once again.

'So, what will it be, 'Ermione?' The calm in that voice took the younger witch by surprise. Fleur regarded her with her normal, steady blues. 'Shall we help each uzzer in capturing zis creature. Or are you going to stop me and report me to Chief Edra?'

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Hermione always relied on her compass of right and wrong. She fine-tuned this, adjusting its cogs and wheels with every insight gained from fighting the good fight alongside Harry. Back then she thought it was wrong to disrespect a teacher. But after getting acquainted with one Dolores Umbridge she has refined it to_, it is wrong to disrespect a teacher who really knew how to teach_. Her compass made her stay with Harry, even though she was frustrated, constantly hungry, hunted and, back then, terribly missing Ron. But she promised to help Harry and her trusty compass said to keep her word. And she did and the world became a safer place.

And now this. The dilemma of Fleur.

Somehow her compass didn't work properly with the blonde. On one hand, she wants to enfold Fleur in her arms, squeeze her or shake her, find a way inside her icy armour. Help her find a path to healing even if it means committing subterfuge and disregarding the oath she took as a Guild Agent. But on another hand she knew that the mission of The Guild is larger than one murder case, even if it's Gabrielle. That The Guild's systems and code of conduct were all agreed upon by the different wizarding countries of the world. To break it not only means breaking the trust of one person, but the trust of everyone who relied on the credibility of The Guild agents.

Hermione was at a loss.

'Fleur…' Her voice trailed as her feet brought her closer to the blonde. 'Can you give me some time to think of this? I want to help you, I really do. I want to capture this murderer. But doing this behind The Guild is something that needs careful thought.'

Fleur took a breath. She expected as much. The younger witch was always cautious. _Too_ cautious. And she needed concrete action, not hesitation, right now.

''Ermione, what are you so afraid of? You can continue working on your case, report to ze Guild. You'll just skip ze part zat we'll be 'elping each uzzer.'

'And the part where you plan to kill the suspect?'

'Look, zats nothing to be worried about. You can capture 'er. Let ze Guild save ze day. But zen, before zat creature reaches Azkaban or Wizengamot an…_unfortunate_ accident 'appens. And ze Guild will never even know your involvement.'

The fact that Fleur already had thought this through was no comfort. Hermione was all the more certain that the blonde will stop at nothing, with or without her help, to slay the siren. She needs to maneuver around this scheme, think of a way of helping Fleur while not doing anything illegal behind The Guild's back. _And how the bloody hell am I going to do that? I better devise a counter plan soon. Tonight._

The younger witch's jaw was set with determination as she nodded once. 'Okay, you have my word. I won't report you to Chief Edra or The Guild. And we can help each other in apprehending the siren.'

'And do you promise zat you will not interfere with Veela justice?'

As if they were playing Trade again, Hermione felt the pull to speak the truth. Fleur studied her intently. Those cerulean eyes darkened, probing into her, searching for any sign of hesitation.

Hermione's heart raced. Her mind overturned every angle, every possibility where she could appease the French witch and yet prevent her from committing any crime. She'll form a solution, she has to. This is easier than searching for unknown Horcruxes, right?

The younger witch cleared her mind from any other thought as she locked her eyes into Fleur's.

'I promise, Fleur.'

Fleur smiled a sad smile. The upturned corners of her lips not quite touching her downcast eyes.

'Remember your promise, ma belle.' The part Veela whispered.

And before Hermione could gather her thoughts, Fleur dipped her head and drew their faces closer. She was so near, Hermione could see the fine pores on the blonde's cheeks, the long curls of dark ochre lashes and eyes of the ocean, vast, mysterious, beckoning. Hermione is submerged in sensations, of feather-soft lips that grazed and seared the sensitive spot at the tiniest corner of her mouth.

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TBC

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**A/N: Sorry for another cliffhanger! (Tee hee, not too sorry, really).**

**First, I will answer some of the points/questions raised by Reviewers of Chapter 5.**

**Guest (Jan13): I'm happy you felt the intimacy of sharing secrets between our two heroines. Isn't intrusion grand? Glad you found Trade ingenious. Really thought hard about that one it almost induced me into constipation.**

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Tux: Yes, you did mention Gabrielle was involved but not as the victim of the crime. But I thought it was quite keen of you to guess correctly that if ever Fleur will commit any sort of dishonesty (stealing the vial from Hermione), it would be because of her beloved sister. About the usual 'Fleurmione' goodness, unfortunately I plan to make them go through, ah, shall we say, turbulent and trying times before they can be really certain about what they mean to each other. But yes, as you correctly put, after the dust settles, our heroines will find that well deserved romance. Again, thank you for taking time to ponder and compose your review. It really makes me re-look at my direction.

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**Bridgette Irish: Wow, I did not detect the hints of Film Noir flavour in this, but I am quite happy that you enjoy it so. And I am all a-flutter that you appreciated Trade. It was one of the most difficult scenes to paint. I didn't want to bore my readers with a mere exchange of information and long monologues, so I am quite satisfied it worked for you. Hey, about your Fleur story involving a wicked Siren, I doubt that you will be accused of plagiarism. As ancestors of Veelas, sirens are bound to come up in this lore of fanfic. And I am quite certain that your unique writing voice will lend new dimensions to it that your readers will enjoy. (Consider me one of your readers once you're done, if it's a Fleurmione pairing I am definitely in.)**

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**GF: I owe you? I thought you were supportive of my writing? =) About the reason of Fleur breaking up with Bill, well I wanted you guys to form your own hypothesis as to 'who' this pertains to. It is fun to be mysterious, yes? Now you are getting to the heart of the puzzle. Why was Gabrielle killed by the Siren? Smart question. It is one of the central questions that will unfold something about Fleur's character (or her Veela heritage). I quite enjoy reading your hypothesis of Gabrielle being a high profile escort… very intriguing indeed. **

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**M: Tension you say? Yes, I enjoy it too.**

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**Thank you for all the reviews and pleas for an update. I know Chapter 6 is quite short. It was supposed to be part of Chapter 5, but that would've been torturously long. Ch6 is really a preamble to Chapter 7, and yes don't get your whips out as I am on it. Pronto. **

Reviews are Love!


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